Home Is Where The Heart Is
by JinxWing
Summary: My own ideas on how Tom and Sybil ended up back in Downton. Not cannon, just a little daydream showing a few weeks of the Bransons in Ireland.
1. Prologue

_A/N This is my first Sybil/Branson Fanfic so I hope this works out. I love Downton Abbey and Sybil and Branson have always been some of my favourite characters and I love their storyline. This is a possible futurefic set just after the Christmas special, so we have just discovered that Sybil is pregnant! Thank you for reading and any feedback – good or bad – is much appreciated. This first chapter is just an introduction, with a focus on Cora's reaction – the next part will focus heavily on Sybil/Branson._

Cora sat up in bed reading and re-reading Sybil's letter, she would never admit it to anyone, but secretly she was proud of Sybil. Yes, she had always dreamed that her daughters would marry rich, influential husbands; but at least she was happy. When Cora was pushed at a prominent English Earl, aged just 20 and she had hated every moment of her new life at Downton Abbey. Of course, once Robert and she had actually fallen in love everything fell into place and, obviously, the arrival of each of her daughters had only increased her joy. Nonetheless her life had not been and still was not perfect. Lady Grantham smiled; her rebellious streak (which Sybil had clearly inherited) had been something of a family joke in America, but after spending the last three decades stifling her wild side she actually enjoyed the breath of fresh air Sybil provided. Branson...no _Tom_, she reminded herself sternly, made Sybil happy – wasn't that, in the end, all that really mattered. The Crawley family had lived through a war and if no-one else had learnt their lesson the Countess of Grantham had. She smiled to herself; war had a funny way of making you see what's really important. It had taken Cora enough time to convince herself that Sybil was doing the right thing, never mind trying to reason with her stubborn husband and insufferable, interfering mother-in-law. Sighing, she tried to move Violet out of her mind; but with little success. Until recently, Violet and Cora had become, in the Dowager Countess' own words, allies – but no matter how useful it was, a mother's love could not stand by while her little girls were torn to pieces by the vulture-like old ladies, who could delicately sip tea from china cups while plotting how best to ruin unsullied reputations. Cora often tried to escape the drawing room when the silk gloves came off and the claws came out. How could those women just sit and pick at her daughters like that? Mary may be engaged, Sybil married and Edith being prepared for some potential suitor, but they were still her babies and she loved them with a fierce love only a mother can understand. It may not quite be Little Women, but she wouldn't swap any of it for the world. She picked up the letter and read it once again; just longing to feel close to her youngest daughter:

_My dearest Mama,_

_ How are you all? I pray that Christmas will find you all happy and healthy- ready to enjoy the festivities._

_Unfortunately Tom and I will not join you at Downton this year, but please do not worry Mama, we will stay with Tom's family who have welcomed me so kindly (it's a shame I can't say the same for my side of the family). _

_I don't quite know how to tell you subtly so I'll just come out with it – I'm pregnant! Tom and I are going to be parents! Oh Mama, I couldn't be happier – that I promise you. I've just been to the doctor and he confirmed it, I am two months gone so our baby is due in July! Please don't tell Mary or Edith – I'd really like to be able to tell them myself. _

_You ask how my life is in Ireland, I am a million times happier than I have ever been before; my job as a nurse gives me satisfaction, Tom loves being a journalist, I am becoming quite adept at maintaining a small house (I have one girl who comes in every day to help me – other than that I am on my own) and Tom and I are so very happy. _

_If Papa was worried, tell him that although things can become tense over here, I am learning quickly where is safe to go and Tom would never let me stray into harm. _

_Tell Papa I miss him and if he wanted to write...well anyway, pass on my love to everyone and hopefully I will see you soon._

_All my Love, _

_Sybil_

_A/N That was just a wee introduction to set the scene. Reviews would be appreciated more than you will ever know. Next part will be soon – probably written from Branson's point of view. Thanks for reading and if I've made any mistakes please do point them out._


	2. Chapter 1

_**Fulfilment **_

_A/N: Okay thank you so much for the lovely reviews for the prologue so I hope I can keep improving and developing these characters in their story. Feedback is much appreciated (good__** and **__bad) and please do point out any mistakes I've made! Last chapter just sort of set the scene so now we'll get stuck in! Oh, by the way, this is from Branson's point of view and is set slightly before Christmas – so Sybil has found out she is pregnant, sent a letter to her mother and is waiting for Tom to return so she can share her news! Just a heads up, I will be flicking back and forth between different characters because although this is mainly Sybil/Branson things like Mary/Matthew's wedding will be included because they would be important to Sybil and Branson. All the chapters will be pretty short which should (in theory) allow me to update more often._

He hunched his shoulders and bowed his head against the harsh wind and rain that was pelting down on him; yes it was good to be home – but the only thing he hadn't missed while in England was the rain. Reflecting on what his life had been like Tom Branson frowned a little, it seemed like a different life, a different world with different people. Quickly his thoughts turned to Sybil (as they were wont to do every five minutes). _Oh Sybil!_ She was everything to him, everything! Tom was a million times happier than he had ever thought possible but the only cloud on his horizon was that niggling doubt that continued to plague his every thought. _Was she truly happy? Would she rather be sitting in some version of Downton with a rich English husband who could provide so much more for her?_ He sighed, he just wanted her to be happy – that's all he had ever wanted. Thinking back to the days following their shock announcement to her family, he couldn't help but chuckle at some of the memories. However, underneath that laughing exterior something about their reactions still stung. _"All this time you've been driving me around, bowing and scraping..." _Lord Grantham's words still made his blood boil. Was the great Earl of Grantham so deluded that he even considered that he, Tom Branson, would bow or scrape to an arrogant, oppressive English Lord? And then, Tom continued his reminiscing, he had the audacity to offer to _**pay him off**_**!** His fists clenched involuntarily, how did they not understand just how much he **adored** Sybil? He would have gladly walked over hot coals just to be rewarded with one of her smiles. Tom would have let bygones be bygones and ignored Lord Grantham's past remarks if he had shown the slightest inkling of wanting to be there for his daughter. Since they had moved to Ireland, Robert had neither visited nor written to Sybil and although she would not admit it, this troubled her greatly. Even the Dowager Countess had written! The surprisingly thoughtful albeit short letter had cheered Sybil up no end and he knew that no matter what she may say; she missed her family.

Sybil was not entirely bereft of family however; the Bransons had overcome their original distrust of anyone belonging to the English Aristocracy and after seeing how happy she made Tom they had accepted her as one of their own. In particular, Tom's sister Sinéad adored Sybil and was seriously considering following in Sybil's footsteps and becoming a nurse.

The tension was growing in Belfast and each day was marked with the news of another bomb, another shooting, another attack. This had never bothered Tom before, but it was no longer about him – his every thought was geared towards what was best for his wife, his Sybil. He chuckled quietly, better not let Sybil hear him calling her "his Sybil"! Her passion for women's rights had sustained, her initial joy at women receiving the suffrage quickly turned to fury when she discovered that she would not be eligible to vote for a good many years yet.

Turning and walking down a quiet street with small, neat houses Tom smiled, before he had met Sybil, the thought of living somewhere like this would have terrified him, it had seemed like a prison – but in reality, he had never felt freer. He quietly turned the handle on the front door and stepped into his home. He could hear Sybil singing to herself as she did a hundred and one things at once. Her new life suited Sybil, her bright eyes and tired feet served as a tribute to her life as both a professional woman and a housewife.

"Tom? Is that you darling?" A sweet voice interrupted his musings.

"Well good afternoon milady" Sybil laughed, Tom persisted in calling her milady as a kind of pet nickname, a joking reference to their past lives. "How was your day sweetheart?" This was Tom's favourite part of the day, a chance for them to just talk.

"Well," Sybil seemed hesitant, "I went to see the doctor today."

"Is something wrong? Are you ill?" Tom had never considered himself a worrier, but anything involving Sybil mattered desperately to him.

Her beautiful, sweet laugh rang out, "Oh Tom! No, I'm absolutely fine – no, I'm better than fine – I'm perfect!"

"Well I could have told you that!"

"Well, I'm...I'm pregnant!"

"You're what?" He was genuinely shocked by her unexpected news.

"Pregnant...we're having a baby!" Sybil's smile started to fade, "aren't you...aren't you pleased?"

Suddenly Tom's face burst into a glorious smile as he picked his wife up and spun her around, "Pleased? I'm ecstatic! I couldn't be happier! Oh my darling!"

As he lay down to sleep that night, while holding Sybil close, Tom sighed contentedly, his whole life he had always been charging around, trying to change the world. His family constantly despaired as he was never satisfied; but now, Tom Branson realised he had finally got what he had always wanted – fulfilment.

_A/N: Sorry it took so long to upload. I wrote it but just couldn't seem to get it right – I'm still not entirely happy but I didn't want to delay any longer. As always you have no idea how much all reviews mean to me, no matter what length. The more reviews I get, the faster I upload! _


	3. Chapter 2

_I know, I know – it's been almost a month since I last updated...feel free to shout at the computer screen, throw things whatever takes the sting out of it. In all seriousness I have been completely swamped lately and with school and this tends to get pushed into the background, so my sincerest apologies to you all. If you would like an assurance of a faster update reviews are as good a way as any! I have had a few reviews regarding the setting of my story in Belfast rather than Dublin, when working out the finer points of my story I decided to set it in Belfast for a number of reasons (which are posted as a review). In addition it is never stated where exactly they are going so I used artistic license in that respect. Finally, I am not an historian so although I do research many things they will not be 100% accurate and as long as there are no gaping mistakes please remember this is just a story. All feedback is appreciated and I'm so thankful for anyone reading this .So on with the story! _

"Nurse Branson, you're needed. Bed three." It took Sybil a moment to remember that she was Nurse Branson but the thrill she got from hearing her delicious surname aloud never lost it's spark. It was Christmas Eve 1919 and Sybil was **working**! Oh Mama would have had a fit and instantly complained she was working too hard, but the thought of being useful, of making a difference just engulfed Sybil and she smiled idiotically to herself for a moment – unable to comprehend everything she had been through in the last number of years. From an innocent schoolgirl to a rebellious suffragette, from a trainee nurse to a wife and soon to be mother – oh it was too much to take in! It seemed like the world had been spinning too fast during the war and she was still waiting for it to slow down. The only constant in this upheaval was Tom, darling, faithful, patient Tom. He was and always had been wherever she needed him; carrying her to safety at a rally or supporting her stand against her parents – she could never thank him enough.

"Nurse Branson, Bed three. NOW!" Shaking herself out of her reverie, she hurried over to the bed vowing to avoid the wrath of the Sister in future. "Good afternoon, I'm Nurse Craw-Nurse Branson." She smiled at the young man in the bed, who had not noticed her slight slip of the tongue. Sybil loved her nursing for so many reasons, but primarily; she loved the patients. Take Martin, her current charge: A cheeky 19 year old who had been injured in a fight. After cleaning and bandaging his wounds she managed to both entertain him while simultaneously lecturing him on the perils of fighting. Another few patients received her care and it was then time for her to return to her cosy home and loving husband. She enjoyed mothering her patients but it always prompted her to worry over what would happen when she really was a mother, the recent trip to the doctors had brought that concept into the almost immediate future and truth be told she was rather starting to panic.

Turning the corner she noted with a wry smile the men brawling just ahead, the pungent smell of alcohol reeking off them, she walked on not thinking much of what had become a regular sight. That was, until she found her path blocked by one of them. "And what are you laughing at?" A large bald man asked, his tie crooked and his shirt filthy. "If you'll please excuse me..." Sybil murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Tom had warned her about this sort of situation but she had laughed it off before telling him that she dealt with all sorts at the hospital so he really needn't worry; however when actually faced with such a situation it was difficult for her to retain her composure. "Oh!" The man sneered, "Excuse me!" his deep voice mocking her opulent accent. "Lads! You might want to come see this!" He leered at Sybil looking at her in a way that made her blush scarlet with shame and horror. "What's a pretty little English girl doing round here?" He asked his gaze roving around her body. Sybil had given all hope of calmness away and was sobbing, "Please? Let me-Let me GO!" She yelled, flailing her arms in an attempt to free the iron grip around her waist. "Go? Oh you're not going anywhere."

"Tom! Tom! TOM! TOM!"

_Thank you so much for reading, sorry for the slight cliff-hanger there but hopefully it won't be so long before I upload again. Remember, more reviews=happy author=inspiration=quicker upload! Thank you all for reading this far and I welcome thoughts, criticisms, compliments and ideas! _


	4. Chapter 3

_Hello again! You must be unfortunately used to me taking an absolute age to upload so I will apologise and feel incredibly guilty. I am one of the world's greatest procrastinators and it may shock you to know that I sat down to write chapter 3, the day after I uploaded chapter 2, but I was distracted (probably by something shiny) and never got around to writing it...oh well, maybe someday I will write two chapters in two days. We can dream! As per usual thank you, thank you, thank you to anyone who took the time to review/alert/favourite...I can never tell you just how much it means to me. _

_I always forget to write this but... I own none of these wonderful characters!_

Sybil was running. Running faster than she had ever run in her life, faster than when Edith had chased her all the way around the lake. Oh what she would give for this to be nothing more than a childish prank. Her breaths came in short, sharp gasps and she was acutely aware of the throbbing pain in her fist and the blood pouring down her neck. Truly, this was the real meaning of blood, sweat and tears; the blood from her wounds, the sweat from her exertion ("Now really Sybil dear," Granny had once informed her, "horses sweat, but ladies perspire.") and tears of fear that those ghastly men would find her. However, it was not merely a fear of self-preservation. It was a fear of what Tom would do if something were to happen to her, a fear of the regrets her family would be left with and most prominently, a fear stemming from the realisation that she was not just taking care of herself at this minute in time – but caring for two.

Finally her running brought her to the place she had been striving for her whole life. Home. "Sybil!" Tom called, completely unaware of the events that had just transpired, "Is that you love?" However, Sybil was too far gone by this point and simply collapsed in the doorway with a half hearted mumble of "Tom!" Tom Branson strolled out expecting to simply find his wife standing waiting for him to welcome her home, but the sight he found was rather different to his expectations. The sickening thud of Sybil's head hitting the wall brought him straight back to 1914 and the sight of Sybil lying on the ground at that awful counting of the votes. "Sybil! Sybil!" She was clearly unconscious and, with a terrible feeling of déjà vu Tom lifted her still body carried her to her bed. After hurriedly telephoning the doctor and attempting to explain in a series of unintelligible, half formed sentences Dr Murphy managed to gather that he was needed urgently and promised Tom that he would be on his way. Still absolutely frantic with worry Tom set about changing Sybil into her nightdress and attempting to mop some of the blood from her wounds. Every second seemed like a minute and minute like an hour, until Tom was driven to brink of insanity.

At last Dr Murphy entered through the door which had been left wide open and following the gruesome trail of blood which led him up the stairs and into Tom and Sybil's bedroom. Dr Murphy had always been the Branson family doctor and while now closer to sixty than thirty he still retained the same presence of mind. Taking a swift look around he noticed Tom still pacing, his eyes never leaving Sybil. "Mr. Branson," Dr Murphy began, "do you have some brandy at your disposal?" Tom did not try and veil his surprise but made his way down to the kitchen (knocking over countless objects on his way) and returned bearing an unopened bottle of brandy and a mug. "Now then Mr. Branson, sit down and drink this," Dr Murphy poured a generous measure into the mug and handing it to Tom, who merely stared at him in bewilderment. "Wh-why are you giving this to me? It's her who needs you not me!"

"Tom." The doctor warned gravely, "I will tell you exactly what your father told you when you had 'flu. Sit down, shut up and drink whatever the doctor gives you." Tom laughed at the recollection but meekly did what the doctor bade him to do. "Because other wise," Dr Murphy continued, "I'll have two patients to look after, and let me tell you, shock isn't a laughing matter m'lad." Once Tom had drank two full mugs of brandy he was quite restored to his right mind and able to watch the doctor efficiently care for Sybil. "Well," Dr Murphy professed, as he finished his examination, "I've bandaged her wounds and left some painkillers you need to give her every four hours. She'll need plenty of rest. But, to be honest, Nurse Crawley is a capable nurse and will be well aware of all this anyway." After refusing Tom's offer to stay for dinner Dr Murphy was shown out and, waving aside Tom's continued gratitude, remarked, "You ought to be proud of her. She threw a right good punch at whoever attacked her – in fact I'd say they probably need my help more than she does." Dr Murphy patted Tom on the shoulder again, "Take care of yourself and her Tom and give my best to your mother." With one final smile Dr Murphy departed leaving a much reassured Tom, now with his trademark grin returned. He always maintained teaching Sybil to punch was one of his finest ideas.

_I know these chapters aren't particularly long so I apologise but I absolutely promise to try my hardest to update more often, and remember reviews = love! Thanks for reading. _


	5. Chapter 4

_See! Didn't I tell you someday I would write two parts in two days? Well that day has come! Just a quick thanks to anyone who reviewed Chapter 3! I'm trying to include a little bit of fluff here but I'm not very good at writing fluff...so be warned. _

_Again I don't own anything!_

"Do you need anything love?" Sybil Branson blinked rapidly, attempting to place the voice to a face. "Whe-where am I? Tom? Why am I in bed? How long have I been asleep? Why am I covered in bandages? Why-" She was interrupted by the sound of Tom chuckling heartily, a delicious sound Sybil hadn't heard in far too long. "It's nice to see you back to your usual quiet, contained ladylike self." Tom joked, earning himself a jab from Sybil as she stuck her tongue out at him, "I rest my case!" Still laughing at Sybil's poor attempts to ignore him Tom lent over to kiss her. The second his lips touched her neck she turned to face him and wrapped her arms around her neck. "Damn it!" Sybil complained, "I can never stay angry at you!" Tom winked, "I know." Rewrapping her arms around his neck Sybil couldn't help but wonder what on earth she had ever done to deserve a man like this, voicing her thoughts to Tom he suddenly turned serious, "I ask myself the same question constantly; but..."he continued, "then I remember just how incredible I am!" Sybil glared up at her husband, "Thomas Ciaran Branson," she began, using the voice she reserved for only her most difficult patients, "You are in serious danger. In fact I would hit you right now if I didn't want to kiss you so much." Finding his lips again Sybil marvelled just how much better she felt, did doctors know of the healing power of kisses, she wondered smiling wryly to herself.

Those next few days where the happiest and most contented of Sybil's life, Tom had proven himself to be an excellent carer and was never far away from Sybil's bedside. No hand could be gentler, no voice softer and no eyes could look more loving. Tom could actually put Sybil to shame, as growing up in a household in which everyone was required to muck in had given him the ability to complete many household chores Sybil normally took care of. "You know," Sybil remarked as she finished a particularly delicious beef stew Tom had made, "you may have to help out at home more often after this." The small Branson home was never so full of love or laughter as in those few weeks.

However, despite the happiness that Sybil's recovery brought, something was still weighing on Tom's mind. Although baby was perfectly healthy, it could have been so different. What if Sybil was badly hurt, what if baby had been hurt, even the shock could have caused serious problems. There was still no peace in Ireland and Tom knew that it was unlikely peace would ever reign. He still prayed that Home Rule would be achieved, and eventually complete separation from their oppressors, but even that wouldn't bring peace. If the Nationalists succeeded the Unionists would continue the unrest, and it was a well known fact that the UVF were a force to be reckoned with. Tom had promised to help the fight for freedom but his true loyalties now lay with Sybil and their child. "Sybil," he began one afternoon, taking her hand, "how would you feel about possibly, maybe going back to England? Just for a bit." He swallowed nervously, well aware of what his wife's reaction would be long before she exploded. "England? Why on earth would I want to go back to England?" She sat up straight, "Really Tom, you spent two years trying to get me out of England now you can't wait to send me back."

"Sybil love," Tom attempted to explain, "it's not a case of sending you back."

"Well that's not what it sounds like!"

"I've got to think of what's best for you, and our baby!"

"What are you trying to say? That I haven't been thinking of our child? For goodness sake Tom I think of nothing else."

"Then you must see that it's simply too dangerous here."

"So what? I must go back to my family and sit waiting? Would you even consent to come with me, or am I to be unceremoniously pushed on to a boat tomorrow?"

"Well I'm sure if I'd be welcome in Yorkshire."

"What's this really about Tom?" Sybil was sobbing by this point; this was the first real argument they had had since their marriage. The occasional disagreement had been all until this point. "Have I done something? Is there another reason why you can't wait to get rid of me? Is there someone else, or have you simply got sick of me?"

Tom was, at the best of times short tempered, but he hated being put in the wrong when he was trying his best to do the right thing. "Be sensible for Heaven's sake Sybil! There's no need to be a drama queen!"

"Oh how flattering you are! I'm a drama queen, I don't care about our child, and I'm unreasonable. Now, if it's quite alright with you I'm going to bed." Tom held out his hand as a peace offering, "I'll join you."

"No." Sybil replied harshly, "I'm tired, I'll be in the spare room. Goodnight Tom."

"Sybil!" He called after her, but to no avail.

_Well there's another wee chapter for you! Sorry for the argument but they're both such opinionated people I can't imagine them not arguing a little. Reviews are very, very much appreciated! If you would be interested in reading my Titanic Fanfic then you could be an angel and help me out. You see because it is a new tv show there is no category existing for it so if you could perhaps send just a little email_ _to the email address of the help page __re adding it as a new category. Many thanks!_


	6. Chapter 5

_Okay, this streak of updating daily may continue to three in three days! You have all been simply lovely and I really do appreciate every review so, so much. I just want to say a specific thank you to __Tegan Ganmore__ because the reviews I get from her are so lovely and always put me in such a good mood! By the way, I have written a short one shot from Edith's point of view if any one is interested in reading it you can find it on my profile. On to chapter 5!_

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><p><em>Dear Lord Grantham<em>

_Sir_

_Father-in-law_

_Arrogant and worthless piece of English_

Tom couldn't help but wish he could finish and send that particular greeting, but now wasn't the time for open warfare – he needed Lord Grantham on side. Although they had reached an uneasy truce; Sybil simply refused to entertain the notion that she might have to return to Yorkshire. That was what had led Tom to being forced to write to his father-in-law for help. Tom knew it was his absolute last resort and still despised the thought of relying on someone who had openly wished for the marriage to fail and had gone so far as to refuse to even attend the wedding of his youngest daughter. Taking a new sheet of paper Tom wrote:

_Lord Grantham,_

That seemed like a good start. For someone who wrote for a living, Tom found it incredibly difficult to compose this short letter.

_I hope I find you and your family and staff well._

A gentleman probably wouldn't include the bit about staff – gentlemen didn't care about staff; they equated to furniture in the minds of the aristocracy. Yet, Tom was that staff until not so long ago – and he still wrote regularly to Anna, Bates and Daisy who kept him and Sybil well informed of what was really going on in the house. Also, being entirely honest with himself, Tom didn't care whether or not Lord Grantham was well. Sybil's mother and sisters had all written, but her father had still neglected to – they could be dying on the streets for all he cared.

_Sybil and I are very well._

Thanks for asking, he thought to himself.

_I presume Lady Grantham has told you our good news; we simply couldn't be more delighted!_

With all the pleasantries out of the way, the difficult part of the letter came. Tom was well aware that this would take a great deal of humility to admit that Ireland was too dangerous for Sybil.

An hour later, and with his small study littered with discarded drafts, Tom let out a loud groan. "Here," a gentle voice came from the doorway, handing him a mug of tea. Tom looked apprehensively at Sybil, not wanting to tell her what he had been working on. She laughed, a sound that had not been heard in the last few days. "I didn't come here to argue." Tom winked, "well that makes a change!" Something of their camaraderie had returned and Sybil just laughed again. "That's more like my Tom." They held eye contact for a moment before rushing into each others arms and sharing a passionate kiss. "I'm so-" Tom began, but was interrupted. "No apologies, we were both wrong and lets leave it at that. Now then..." she smiled, "we need to decide on a plan."

After much persuasion, Sybil made Tom agree to come with her to Downton. "You can write from there and send them back to Ireland." She replied to Tom's queries about his work. "The thing is," Sybil began hesitantly when Tom asked why he couldn't just take holidays. "I've been thinking. It might not just be a holiday. It will be at least until the baby's born and maybe beyond." It was Tom's turn to be outraged, "beyond?"

"You simply don't know how idyllic my childhood was, baby could have that!" However Tom was anxious to avoid another argument and agreed just to keep her happy.

That evening they sat down together, as husband and wife, and began to write the letter to Lord Grantham. "Wouldn't it be best if I write?" Sybil asked, seeing how frustrated Tom was getting. "Fine. I give up!" Sybil kissed him gently, "I love you." She reminded him before sitting on his knee and beginning her letter.

_Papa!_

_I miss you a great, great deal! I hope Mama and Mary and Edith are quite well and tell them that I really appreciate their letters. I'm sure Mama has told you that I'm expecting, and Tom and I are so very happy! I love my life in Ireland, I love my job and Tom's family have welcomed me so graciously. Tom and I have been thinking however, Ireland is quite dangerous and although we can both look after ourselves,_

"Huh!" Tom muttered, "Shh!" she chided him, "Papa doesn't need to know about that."

_We're worried about our child. We would both like to come and stay in Yorkshire until things settle down a little. I miss my home, I won't lie and I do look forward to seeing you all again. I'm sorry I missed Christmas._

_Your ever loving daughter_

_Sybil Branson_

"Well that's that then." Tom smiled at her, "Sybil love," He cleared his throat and looked straight at her, "I will follow you wherever you will go. Whether it's Belfast or Yorkshire – it doesn't matter." And with that all was well once again in the Branson household.

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><p><em>There's one more wee chapter for all you lovely people. I hope you like! Next couple of chapter s will start to be set in Downton. Reviews are love! <em>


	7. Chapter 6

_I know I haven't updated as much recently, but I've kind have had a lot going on; my granny's really ill in hospital at the minute so I've been seeing her and my granda's just out of hospital so it's been quite a stressful Easter! Also I'm working on a new fic; don't suppose there are many people who like Harry Potter and Downton? Well on the off-chance I'm not the only one I am writing a James/Lily Fanfic which you can find on my profile! As usual thanks for reading, I absolutely adore every single person who has reviewed the last few chapters – so keep up the good work!_

Tom sighed, for what must be the hundredth time that day. "Sybil love, are you sure this is the right thing to do?" Tom gave up all pretence and looked hopefully at Sybil, she just laughed.

"It was _your _idea!"

"I wasn't going to come! They hate me!"

"They don't _hate _you."

Tom just shook his head at her, "Yes love, I'm sure when they hired me as the _chauffeur_ they were secretly dreaming that I would run away with their youngest daughter!" She just laughed, lightly slapping him with her duster. "Yes but that's all in the past now," Sybil replied, reassuring herself as much as him. It was strange how quickly the time had passed, how quickly Tom and Sybil had become "us" while the rest of the family had become "them".

It hadn't been so long ago that Tom and Sybil had been itching to escape England; but now they were fleeing back. It was hard for Tom to accept that he was "fleeing". After spending the previous few years proving himself as a capable journalist, husband and future father; Tom despised having to beg his Father-in-law for help and protection. Tom's pride was one of his most prominent characteristics, but he recognised the need to put his wife and unborn child first. Lord Grantham had not even deigned to reply to Sybil's letter but instead left it to his wife to write back arranging the visit. A number of letters later, it had been decided that Sybil and her husband would stay at least until the baby was born and possibly beyond that. This would be the first grandchild in the Crawley family and they were all extremely exited; _even_, Cora had stressed, Robert. The last week had seen Sybil leave the job she loved; although Tom was going to continue to work. He may need his Father-in-law's house but Tom would still provide for his wife and child; no matter what. Tom would be taking on a column, outlining what it was like as an Irishman in England. To save money the Bransons had decided to rent out their small house while they were in England, so that was another thing to sort: the house needed completely cleaned (despite the fact Sybil kept it immaculate) and all their possessions packed and sorted into what would be taken to Yorkshire and what would be put into storage until they returned, "_if they returned,_" Tom couldn't help but think gloomily.

From behind him two arms wrapped around his waist and Sybil laughed, "it's not forever you know." However, it simply wasn't that easy, all the fears Tom had been keeping hidden began spilling out, "How do I act around them? What do I address them as? I don't own a dinner suit. I've never been to a dinner party. What do I say to their friends? What about the servants? I don't want to be waited on. Sybil I can't do this!" Sybil looked at him, shocked, she got the feeling this had been building up all week, but Tom carried on, "what if they say something I don't agree with? Do I argue; do I stay silent? Carson hates me! Oh My Lord –Your grandmother!" At this Sybil just couldn't help herself, she sat down and laughed. It wasn't a quiet lady-like chuckle; it was a deep belly laugh – the kind that stems from weeks of tension and fear. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she sat up and looked at Tom who appeared rather affronted, "Tom, sweetheart." She cradled his face in her hands, "if I cared about any of those things I would be married to some Lord. But I'm not, am I?" Her husband shook his head, "do whatever you want; it's their fault it they don't like it. For all I care you can turn up to dinner in a bathing costume and tell them there's a bomb in your suitcase!" She kissed him tenderly.

The spark had returned in Tom's eye, "I'd tell them I had a bomb except I know that they'd probably be expecting it!" Tom chortled, his fears dealt with. All he wanted was to make Sybil proud, make her glad that she had bet on him.

The next days passed in a blur and before he knew it, Tom Branson was once again on English soil.


End file.
